


What Are You Looking For, Eddie?

by beepbeepbitchard



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Eddie’s still figuring himself out, Explicit Language, He’s having a rough go of it, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, No gore but people will get beat up, Non-Graphic Violence, Patrick Hockstetter is the worst, Religious Guilt, Richie Tozier Has ADHD, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, anti-semitic language, people swear and call people slurs, sex jokes are made, tags to be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-01-13 16:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18472690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepbeepbitchard/pseuds/beepbeepbitchard
Summary: If there's one thing Eddie Kaspbrak has learned over the first 16 years of his life, it's to listen to his mother. She'll take care of him; she always has. She'd never do anything to hurt him. Everything she does is only to protect him. Or, at least, that's what Eddie's always been told. But suddenly, he starts to realize that not everything is as it seems. Secrets that Sonia's been keeping from Eddie...and secrets Eddie's been keeping from himself.





	1. Chapter 1

When Eddie Kaspbrak did his homework in his room, he did it with the window open. It was a small act of rebellion, one that sometimes made him have to use his inhaler, but one that gave him strength nonetheless. The sounds of spring outside never failed to put a soft smile on his face—that is, until his wristwatch alarm disrupted them. Eddie groaned, leaning back against the headboard and closing his eyes. He counted off in his head:  _ Three, two, one— _

 

“Time to take your pills, Eddie-bear!”

 

_ There it is.  _ As if summoned by the sound, a saccharine voice appeared outside his bedroom. His door was closed but unlocked, giving only the illusion of privacy. The locks had come off all the doors a long time ago, when Eddie thought he’d try to avoid taking the pills one day. She had screamed and shrieked so loud he was sure the whole neighborhood could hear her. Turned out, they could. Vic Criss went around telling everyone the day after that “Mommy told her faggot son to never skip his pills ‘cause they help turn ‘im straight.” Eddie came home from school that day sporting a bloody nose and a sprained wrist. She never heard Vic’s story, but she did see the injuries, and she hollered all the way to the hospital about keeping Eddie safe. He had been on house arrest for a week after, too drugged up to argue when the locks disappeared off the doors.

 

He wasn’t, by the way. A faggot. He couldn’t be. She’d been telling him horror stories about all the diseases they had from the day his dad died. He didn’t have any of those. He was clean; she made sure of that. And he didn’t even like guys anyway. He never watched Mike’s strong arms flex in his quarterback jersey, or the way Ben’s eyes lit up when he went on about a new book he read. He never asked Stan to get closer to him to help him adjust his stance when they were at baseball practice. He never lingered his fingers on Bill’s face as he wiped stray flecks of paint off his jaw. He never blushed when Richie pulled him onto his lap and pinched his cheeks while they watched a movie. He never did any of those things. So he couldn’t be. 

 

“Open up, Eddie-bear!” That sickly sweet voice felt like it was clawing its way into his skull. He heaved a great sigh, taking as long as he could before sliding off his bed and opening the door. 

 

“Hi, Mommy,” he chirped, having to force himself to avoid physically recoiling at the sight of her. She loomed over him like a bad omen, holding a glass of water in one clammy hand and a pile of pills in the other. As he stood there, the omen shoved the glass on him, waiting expectantly. Eddie suppressed a sigh and picked up the first pill, swallowing it obediently and then lifting his tongue to show he hadn’t hidden it. 

 

An eagle eye watched him take more pills silently, tension only building in the room until finally—“I don’t want you going out with your friends anymore,” she suddenly demanded. Eddie’s eyes widened. Her tone indicated there was no room for argument, but he was not about to just take a statement like that lying down. 

 

“What?” he exploded, stepping back from her. “You can’t just tell me I can’t have friends, that’s such bullshit!” He started to turn back into his room, fists clenched. 

 

“Eddie, no swearing. Come back and finish your pills,” she said in an infuriatingly calm tone. It drove him absolutely crazy when she used it, worse than when she screamed. Screaming made her sound like a madwoman and it was easier to laugh at her, to feel like she was being completely unreasonable. But when she talked like that...it made things make sense. Just a little bit more. But it was usually enough to get him to listen, and that infuriated him.

 

He turned back around with an apologetic look, but there was a fire burning in him as he did so. He hated the way she could get him to do whatever she wanted, despised the power that she had over him. 

 

“Eddie,” she continued softly, holding out the rest of the pills for him to take, “You know springtime is when your allergies act up. Everything gets worse in the spring, the mosquitoes come back and you know your rowdy friends will want to climb trees and swim in the lake. You could break your arm—and do you know how many diseases are in that water? Take your pills, Eddie-bear.” She waited for him to finish the last few in her palm before explaining further.

 

“I just don’t want you getting hurt, sweetheart. You don’t want to hang around those boys anyway—and that Marsh girl!” Her lip curled up and she shook her head. “They’re bad influences on you, Eddie-bear. Andrea’s boy...Stanley?...he might be able to come visit you, but the others...I don’t think so, sweetheart. You’ll just get hurt around them.” 

 

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, then shut it again. There was no point in arguing He’d tried that before. It never worked. Besides, she was letting Stan come over. That was good, right? “Okay, Mommy. Thank you,” he said, the words feeling bitter on his tongue. Her lips turned up into a condescending smile that made Eddie want to punch something. 

 

“Oh, and Eddie?”

 

“Yes, Ma?”

 

“Close your window.”


	2. Chapter 2

“That’s bullshit!” Richie complained. They were eating lunch outside, another small rebellion on Eddie’s part. He kept his inhaler in the front pocket of his bag, though, just in case. 

 

“I know, that’s what I said!” Eddie sighed, making Stan laugh. 

 

“Bet she loved that,” he said, smirking. Eddie made a face at him. 

 

Richie wrapped an arm around him and squished his cheeks together. “Don’t worry, Eddie Spaghetti, we’ll break you out! It’s finally getting warm out, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let one of my best friends miss out ‘cause his mom’s a bitch!”

 

Eddie scrunched up his nose and pushed Richie away, trying to hide the blush threatening to come to the surface. “Don’t call me that. And don’t call my mom a bitch, either. She’s just looking out for me.”

 

“Sorry, Eds,” he said sheepishly. Eddie opened his mouth to tell him not to call him Eds, either, but then Bev scoffed. 

 

“Yeah, that’s what _he_ said,” Beverly told him, cigarette hanging loosely from her fingertips. No matter how many times she got detention for it, she refused to stop smoking during their lunch breaks. It was one of the many things Eddie admired about her. She wasn’t afraid of the consequences, didn’t care what people thought about her. Having the same carefree attitude, Richie sometimes joined her, but had opted out today. That was only reason Eddie was sitting next to him. Well...not the only reason. Richie was fun to be near. Even with all his shitty jokes and the way he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of him, Eddie liked to be with him. Suddenly, Bev started speaking again, interrupting Eddie’s train of thought.

 

“He said he was ‘just looking out for me’...and you know how that ended.” She took a drag on her cigarette, pointedly raising an eyebrow at him. 

 

Yeah, he knew how that ended.

 

“That’s—that’s different, though!” Eddie protested, feeling a little guilty about it. “She just keeps me inside and gives me pills to keep me healthy, it’s not the worst thing in the world!”  _ Why are you defending her? She’s never been anything but terrible to you. _

 

Bill seemed to have the same idea. “E-Eddie, you kn-know that’s—you know that’s n-n-not normal, r-right?” he asked with concern, brows knitted together. “She shhh-shouldn’t be d-d-doing that, she c-c-c—” Bill’s face started turning red and he cut himself off. He paused, taking a breath before starting over. “She can’t do that,” he finished lamely. 

 

Eddie grimaced. “She can, and she does.” He sounded defeated. 

 

“Richie’s right,” Ben spoke up then, trying to change the subject, however slightly. “We’ve gotta do something fun, even if you can’t come out anymore. You know, before your ma makes you stay inside.”

 

“Richie’s right...there’s something you hear once in a blue moon,” Stan teased, causing his friend to shove him playfully. 

 

“You’re just jealous,” Richie retorted, earning another snort. 

 

“Jealous? Of what, Trashmouth? Of never being right? Can’t relate to that, I’m always right.” Stan popped his collar, slicking his hair back with a smirk. He could only hold the act for a few seconds before he was cracking himself up, sending Eddie into his own fit of giggles. 

 

“You’re such a loser, Stan,” he laughed, feeling for a second like everything was normal. He loved Stan for it, loved him for always being able to make everything seem okay even if nothing was. 

 

Not  _ loved  _ him, loved him. Loved him like a brother, entirely platonically. And when Stan touched his thigh gently, giving him a tugging sort of feeling in his gut? Well, that was just a biological reaction. Meant nothing. He wasn’t gay.

 

“Eddie,” Stan said, sobering up faster than him, “Do you want me to talk to her for you? She must like me if she’s letting me come over.” He had meant the soft touch to be comforting to Eddie, but it seemed to be anything but—a small grimace flashed over his face as he pulled away slightly. Stan made a face that looked a little pitying, but he said nothing else.

 

Eddie shook his head quickly, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He pulled out his inhaler and shook it, taking a deep puff. He felt Mike’s large hands on his back then, heard his voice telling him, “Breathe, Eddie, it’s okay, nobody’s gonna do anything you don’t want them to.” He should’ve found the words comforting, but paired with Mike’s gentle touch they seemed unbearable. Eddie couldn’t even tell him to stop, still holding the stale air in his mouth. As soon as he let it out, he took another puff, trying to ignore the concerned faces of all his friends. Eddie closed his eyes and took some wheezing breaths, trying to calm himself down.

 

When Eddie could finally speak, he told Stan, “Thank you, but no. It’d just make it worse and then you wouldn’t be able to come over, either.” He stood up then, needing Mike’s hands off of him; they were making him itch all over. 

 

Eddie shoved his inhaler back in his bag and turned to go inside, but then he sighed and sat back down, farther away from everyone than he had been before. Bev’s smoke made him nauseous, and he felt weird about sitting next to any of the rest of them, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. 

 

“Hey, Eds—” Eddie groaned. “You think if I came over and fucked your mom, she’d let me pull the stick out of her ass?” Richie joked, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen over the group. 

 

Simultaneously, the rest of them groaned, “Beep beep, Richie!” Eddie said it harsher than the others, looking up at the sky. He really didn’t want to think about Richie having sex with his mom...or anybody else, for that matter. 

 

Richie held his hands up defensively, looking offended. “Just trying to lighten the mood, goddamn!” He turned a little more serious then. “Really though, Spaghetti, we’re gonna help you out, you shouldn’t be stuck inside—”

 

Eddie stood up again, angrier than last time. “I don’t  _ need  _ your help, Richie. I don’t need any of your help, nothing’s gonna change, so don’t bother. Why do you even care?” He didn’t wait for an answer, spinning on his heel and storming up the steps. He moved so quickly that he didn’t see the way Richie’s face fell. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bowers Gang appears for the first time in this chapter, so be prepared for some typical violence/language. Other than that, enjoy!

Eddie spent the rest of the day with his head down, ignoring all of his friends’ attempts to talk to him. He felt guilty, of course he did, but if he talked to them he’d probably just end up snapping again. And, hey, it’d make it a lot easier when he was officially banned from seeing everyone but Stan if he started isolating himself now.

 

He hung around a little after the final bell rang, not wanting to get his bike just yet. The few of them who didn’t have cars—him, Bev, and Mike—had put them together this morning, just like they always did. If Eddie ran into them, Mike probably wouldn’t bring it up, realizing how upset he was, but Bev would. He knew it was out of love, but he just couldn’t handle arguing with her at the moment. Eddie wandered around outside the back of the school. He planned to just hang there until it was late enough that they all would’ve left. But because the whole universe was working against him the past few days, that only landed him in deeper shit.

 

“Heya, fairy boy,” Henry Bowers sneered, coming up behind him so quickly he didn’t get the chance to run; he was frozen with shock. Of course he would be lurking around the back of the school after it let out, why didn’t Eddie think of that? But instead of berating himself, he needed to focus on the more pressing matter, which was that if Bowers was here, that meant--

 

Yep. There they were, the rest of the Bowers Gang, slithering out from the shadows like the slimy creeps they were. Eddie quickly sized up his opponents as they closed in on him. Vic Criss was taller than him, but Eddie had more muscle. Belch Huggins was much bulkier, but that made him slow. They weren’t difficult to deal with on their own, but paired with the other two it was going to be much harder to get away. Patrick Hockstetter...he scared the absolute shit out of Eddie. He seemed to be the most unhinged of all the boys in the Bowers Gang, and even with his lanky frame that rivaled Richie’s, Eddie was positive he never wanted to be alone with him. And Bowers? He was ruthless, and he had his switchblade. That tiny blade did a lot more damage than you’d expect; Eddie knew from experience. Even if he had somehow forgotten, it didn’t matter; it looked like he was about to revisit the feeling.

 

“Bowers, I’m not in the mood to fight right—” Eddie started in vain, but before he finished, Bowers gestured to Belch and he lumbered up behind him. He grabbed onto one of Eddie’s shoulders and ripped his backpack off of him before pinning his arms behind his back. He just sighed. On top of everything else with his mother, he did _not_ need to deal with this too.

 

“Come on, pretty boy, don’t you wanna show us what you’re made of? I love that little fire in you...need me to make it spark?” Patrick purred in his ear, flicking open his Zippo. He traced a bony finger across the back of Eddie’s neck and down to his collarbone, making shivers run down his spine. It felt like spiders crawling over him and he hated it. _This is how boys—gay boys—make you feel_ , he reminded himself. _They invade your personal space, touch you without your permission, say stuff to try and make you uncomfortable. They’re creeps._

 

Eddie pulled back from him as much as he could in Belch’s grip, grimacing. “Don’t touch me, Patrick. None of you touch me,” he spat, but there was no point; they already had him cornered and without the use of either of his arms. Patrick made a weird exhale that might’ve been a laugh; Eddie couldn’t tell.

 

“Whaddya mean, sweetheart? I’m having so much fun.” Patrick licked his chapped lips, face getting closer and closer...and closer...Eddie pulled back further, head pushing into Belch’s chest, but Patrick chased him, leaning in. His lips were way, _way_ too close for comfort—when finally Henry shoved him off to the side with a disgusted-sounding scoff.

 

“Do that shit on your own time, he’s mine today,” Henry threatened, brandishing his switchblade. Patrick backed off with a roll of his eyes, and Eddie let a breath out he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He never wanted Patrick anywhere near him, and that might’ve been the worst it had ever been. He was terrified of the day Patrick _did_ do it on his own time. Henry pressed the switchblade to Eddie’s neck then, interrupting his train of thought.

 

Eddie didn’t break eye contact with him, determined look on his face. “If you’re gonna do it, just do it,” he challenged, already tired of it. He just wanted to get it over with. This was too much for him to handle right now.

 

“Thought you were smarter than that, faggot.” The word caused Eddie’s stomach to twist. “Don’tcha know? I like to take my time.” Bowers smirked and began to walk away. Eddie was naive enough to believe that that was the end of it, but all of a sudden, he rushed at him and punched him in the stomach.

 

Eddie doubled over, groaning, but was held up by Belch’s grip on his arms. That alone was going to leave bruises, he was sure. “Leave me alone, I’m not gay,” he insisted breathily, even as Bowers pressed the blade back into his neck, harder this time.

 

“ _I’m not gay_ ,” Bowers mocked in a high-pitched voice. “You don’t think the whole school can tell, Kaspbrak? They all see the way you look at Twitchie Tozier and the kike.” Eddie bit back a scathing retort at the names, only because he didn’t trust Bowers not to slit his throat. Bowers had no right to call his friends that shit. But...did... _everyone_ really think that? He wasn’t gay, for Richie or Stan—and certainly not for both of them. People had to know that, right?

 

“I—I don’t—” Eddie weakly tried to protest, making Bowers laugh. He pressed the knife into his throat, drawing blood before wiping it on his jeans and tucking it back in his pocket. His lips turned up in a smirk as his fingers curled into a fist.

 

“C’mon, fag. Everyone knows you’re a dirty—” _Punch_ . “Filthy—” _Punch_ . “Disgusting little homo.” _Punch_. Eddie wheezed, wind completely knocked out of him. Bowers cackled at his misfortune. “Wheezy need his inhaler?” he mocked, pulling the object out of his backpack and shaking it tauntingly in front of his face.

 

“Bowers, don’t—” Eddie pleaded breathily. He needed the inhaler, his mother would be so upset if he broke it and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t fucking breathe—

 

“You gonna cry, girlyboy? You gonna cry for Mommy to come get you?” Bowers taunted, the rest of the gang laughing with him.

 

Eddie didn’t retort, knowing it would be easier for him if he didn’t. He hung his head, whistling breaths still straining out of him. “Just...get it over with.” Henry rolled his eyes but nodded to Belch, who then let go of Eddie’s arms. He fell to the ground, unable to catch his breath for long enough to pull himself up or even attempt to defend himself. The whole gang circled around him, kicking Eddie hard in the back and stomach and making him release groans of pain between his wheezes.

 

When Bowers was finally satisfied, he crouched down next to Eddie and tilted his chin up with the switchblade. “Remember this, okay, fag? Don’t want you getting smart on us. No matter how many times you get up, we’ll always keep knocking you down.” Bowers sneered at Eddie and kicked him once more in the ribs as he stepped over him, leaving him rasping in the dirt. “C’mon, guys, let’s go.”

 

Eddie scrambled weakly for his inhaler as soon as they were gone, every movement shooting pain through his body. His breath eventually evened, but he laid there for awhile longer, revisiting and regretting everything that had happened in the past two days. He knew he would have to face his mother at some point, as much as he was dreading it. The thought made him stay on the ground a little longer before he whispered to himself,  “Okay, let’s get up, Kaspbrak,” pushing up off the ground. Eddie let out whimpers of pain as he did so—they really did a number on him. But he wasn’t a...fag, and he wasn’t a pussy, so he forced himself to walk home with his head held high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was kind of a filler chapter but I hope you liked it anyway! xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’s a little easter egg in here, if you find it i’ll love you forever (except i won’t give you any hints so good luck haha)
> 
> i’m really proud of this chapter, hope you enjoy!

Eddie tried to sneak into his house, going through the back door instead. She’d flip out if she saw him, he knew it. He opened the door slowly and slipped into the kitchen, holding his breath. Eddie meant to close the door just as slowly, but a gust of wind made it slam shut instead. He winced and froze in his place, praying she hadn’t heard.

 

“Eddie-bear? I’ve been worried sick, where have you been?” She tottered into the kitchen, instantly bursting into tears at the sight of him. Eddie bit his lip, not meeting her gaze. “Oh, sweetie, what happened?” She rushed toward him, cupping his cheeks. His face was mostly unharmed, only a few small scratches from where he’d hit the ground, but he had a small scab on the side of his neck where Bowers had cut him. It really wasn’t that bad, comparatively. It wasn’t like the time the same boy had broken his arm, twisted it up so high it snapped clean in two. That had been the worst time of his life, he thought. He couldn’t do anything at all, and she had banned him from seeing his friends then, too. He’d gotten away from her that time. And here he was, letting her do it again. He was disgusted with himself. Eddie turned his head, pulling away and attempting to leave the room. “Eddie, don’t walk away from me!” she screeched hysterically, and grabbed his arm. 

 

“Mama, please, I’m fine!” Eddie begged. “I don’t need your help!” His eyes widened as soon as the words left his mouth. That was the worst possible thing he could’ve said right now. Her eyes darkened and her grip on his arm turned viselike. “Ma, you’re hurting me!” he cried out, trying to tug his arm away. 

 

She instantly let go at his words, too afraid to hurt her boy, but didn’t relent. “We’re going to the emergency room, Eddie,” she commanded, and quickly herded him out the door. Eddie’s protests fell on deaf ears as she buckled him into the passenger seat. 

 

Eddie didn’t know why he bothered, really. It was clear he’d never get out of her grip. He was going to be stuck in this cycle forever, never escaping. All of his friends were looking forward to college for one reason or another, and he was happy for them, but it also increased his own bitterness. He had tried to bring the topic up with her once, but she had thrown such a big fit that he was afraid to talk to her about it again. So he’d have to see all of his friends go off to college, pursuing their dreams, and he’d still be stuck here. Stuck with her, stuck with the pills, stuck being manipulated over and over again into staying with her forever. Eddie wanted to cry, but he didn’t want to give her any more ammunition. So he stayed silent, lip quivering the whole way to the emergency room. 

 

“Come on, Eddie-bear,” she cooed when they got to the parking lot. “It’s time to go.” Eddie sat in the passenger seat, unmoving. He was not going to make this any easier for her. “ _ Eddie _ ,” she warned, gripping his shoulder. It’d hit the ground hard when he fell, and he winced despite himself, allowing a grin to spread across her face. She had him now. “Come on, sweetheart, let me help you out.” He groaned loudly and slid out of the car. “There we are. That wasn’t so bad, now was it? Let’s go, sweetie.” Her grip on his shoulder returned as she steered him into the hospital bay. 

 

Eddie’s face turned red in embarrassment as he saw two of the attending nurses, a man and a woman, exchange glances; they’d been through this dance before. They hadn’t ever treated him, but all the nurses knew that if Mrs. Kaspbrak’s precious angel wasn’t treated right away, she’d throw an absolute fit. It had happened more than once, Eddie always covering his face in shame until it was over. He’d tried to tell her to stop, but she never listened--it seemed to be a recurring theme in their relationship. 

 

She scoffed, looking over at the pair. “That man better not be treating you, Eddie-bear. Any man in a nursing position clearly has no self respect.”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Ma, all nurses have to go through real hard education and training, they’re really impressive whether they’re a man or a woman—”

 

“Hush, Eddie,” she said distractedly; she hadn’t even been listening, too focused on being judgmental. 

 

The male nurse came over to them, which made Sonia scoff again. He smiled so bright Eddie actually stepped back. If he liked boys…and that was a big  _ if... _ this nurse would be his type. Tall, curly hair, sparkling blue ey— _ STOP.  _ He was sure he was blushing, which made him blush even harder. 

 

“Mrs. Kaspbrak, Eddie, always a pleasure,” he greeted smoothly, shaking her hand before holding it out to Eddie. He refused to make eye contact with him as he shook his hand, feeling mortified already. “What seems to be the problem today?”

 

Eddie opened his mouth to answer when she interrupted. “Can’t you see?” she screeched, pushing Eddie toward them. The nurse raised an eyebrow. 

 

“You’ll have to explain, ma’am.”

 

“My boy is very clearly injured, can’t you see?” she yelled at him. Eddie looked up at her with a pleading look. 

 

“Ma, please—” he started, but she gripped his shoulder again, making him stop in lieu of yelping in pain. The nurse stepped forward, looking concerned. 

 

“I think we can take Eddie now, Mrs. Kaspbrak,” he told her, holding out a hand a little defensively. She shook her head, tightening her grip on her son’s shoulder. Eddie bit his lip hard, legs shaking. 

 

“I’m not leaving him,” she said firmly. Eddie could tell the nurse was suppressing a sigh, but he nodded. 

 

“Follow me.”

 

* * *

 

Eddie was silent as they began the drive home, resting his head on the window as he stared out of it. He could feel her eyes on him every so often, but she didn’t say anything for a long while. She cleared her throat but Eddie didn’t look over. 

 

“You’re thinking about that nurse, aren’t you?”

 

“I—what?” That made Eddie whip his head around to face her.  “N-no, why would you say that?” He could feel his face getting hot. God, he was a terrible liar. The truth was, he couldn’t get the nurse off his mind. The way he was so gentle with him, cleaning off his scrapes and making sure not to hurt him when he had to look him over. It only took one of his large hands to encircle Eddie’s entire bicep when he took his blood pressure, which led to Sonia demanding a prescription for Betapace. The whole time, he’d talked to him softly and calmly, answering all of Sonia’s questions smoothly. He admired anyone who could handle her—it wasn’t easy. He was so different from Patrick, who made his skin crawl every time he so much as looked at him. The nurse reminded him more of...Stan, if he was being honest. Stan was always so sweet to him, made him feel safe whenever he was a little too worked up. He made him feel at home, more than actually being at home did. 

 

Eddie thought back to Bowers’ words, how he had said that everyone saw the way he looked at Stan and Richie. He hadn’t thought he looked at them any differently. But now that he thought about it—especially after that nurse—he  _ did _ feel a little tugging in his gut whenever he talked to them...or looked at them…or thought about them—

 

“Don’t lie to me, Eddie,” she warned, snapping him out of his train of thought. “I can tell you’re thinking about him. Those are sinful, dirty thoughts, sweetheart. I think we should stop at church on the way home, what do you think?” He knew she wasn’t asking for his opinion. 

 

“No.”

 

“What did you say?” Her lips were pursed so tightly it looked like she’d just swallowed a whole lemon. Eddie’s stomach dropped. He had no idea where that had come from. Eddie had grown up on the Bible, learning from a very young age how to be holy and pure. And even though he wasn’t gay, it seemed that she thought he was, and that definitely didn’t make him holy  _ or  _ pure. He believed in God, and in Heaven and Hell. He knew he’d go to Hell for sinning, for thinking these kinds of things. Even if it was just in passing, fleeting thoughts of how light he felt in Richie’s arms or how Stan’s lips might feel on his. It didn’t matter; he’d be sent to Hell for it all. But in that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

“I  _ said _ , no,” Eddie repeated, hands clenched into fists as he anticipated her response. There was a long pause before she spoke again.

 

“Okay.”

 

“What?” He was stunned. She’d never listened to him when he disagreed, not once.

 

“Okay,” she said again. “If you want to be a filthy sinner, I won’t stop you. I’ll just pray for you each night that the Lord shows you mercy, my poor boy. I hope you know how much it hurts me to have to do that, but I can’t help it if you don’t help yourself.”

 

Eddie’s hands shook. “I’m not—I’m not a sinner,” he choked out. It seemed that neither of them wanted to say the word to each other.  _ Gay _ . It hung in the air, unspoken but known by both of them.

 

Sonia clicked her tongue, looking sympathetic as they pulled into the driveway. “Oh, but sweetheart, you are.” The car stopped and she turned to him. “Get inside.” Eddie didn’t hesitate, unbuckling himself and bolting to the door. He couldn’t wait to get away from her. “And don’t go upstairs!” Shit.

 

He waited impatiently inside, perched on the arm of her recliner like a frightened bird, ready to take off at a moment’s notice. Finally, she came inside, and gave him a scary little smile. 

 

“On your knees,” she commanded. Eddie didn’t move. “I told you to get on your knees, Eddie.” He stayed still, hands clasped in his lap. She came over to him and yanked him up by the shoulder, making him yelp as she pushed him to his knees on the hardwood floor. “Our Father. Say it.”

 

Eddie was shaking as he whispered, “Our Father, who art in Heaven—”

 

“Louder. Hands up.”

 

He cleared his throat and started over, clasping his hands together as he prayed. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.” 

 

She watched him silently as he completed the prayer, saying nothing when he was finished but, “Leviticus 18:22.”

 

Eddie swallowed hard, feeling himself begin to sweat. He knew the verse. Of course he did. He repeated it in his head about twenty times a day. “Ma, I’m not...how do you know?” His face burned and he looked down, not wanting her to see the shame on his face. He needed to know why everyone thought he was gay. What was he doing wrong?

 

“The Lord has been testing me since your birth,” she said simply, before repeating, “Leviticus 18:22.”

 

It felt like a slap in the face. So he was just a test for God of his mother’s faith? That didn’t feel fair. He was his own person—but God had a plan, that’s what he’d always been told. So maybe He’d come up with a new plan for Eddie. He prayed He would. 

 

He swallowed again. His mouth had never felt drier. Eddie’s voice was shaky as he recited, “Thou shalt not—thou shalt not lie with mankind as with—as with womankind...it is abom—abomination.” He didn’t look at her when he was done, face hot with guilt.

 

“Again.”

 

“W-what?” Eddie croaked, looking up at her then.

 

“I think you forgot it, Eddie-bear, you seemed to have some trouble with saying it correctly,” she said coolly, a glint behind her beady eyes suggesting she was enjoying this immensely. “Say it again.”

 

Eddie’s lip quivered as he repeated it. “Thou shalt—shalt not lie with—with mankind as with womankind, it—it is abomination.” He could feel his chest getting tight as he thought about it. 

 

“Again.”

 

He ended up repeating it four more times, each slower than the last as he found it harder and harder to speak. By the end, the voice in his head was starting to agree with her again.  _ This is what the Bible says. Homosexuality is a sin. You’re not allowed to think about boys like that. _ Still, there was another, smaller voice—that sounded just a little like Richie—that argued back.  _ Screw ‘em, Eds, am I right? Fuck the bible. _ He winced at even thinking the words.  _ If being gay is who you are, then who gives a shit what the bible says? _ Eddie sighed internally.  _ My mother _ , he repeated. 

 

Like she knew, she yanked him back up. “Have you learned your lesson?” He nodded but didn’t meet her gaze. She scoffed. “I guess not. Back on the floor, then.” Eddie winced as his already sore knees hit the hard floor again. She used a clammy hand to force his chin up so he was staring at the crucifix on the wall, and didn’t let go as she repeated, “Leviticus.” 

 

Eddie blinked back tears as he looked up at the figure.  _ Jesus died on the cross for our sins _ , he reminded himself.  _ This is nothing. _ He took a deep breath and started again. “Thou shalt not lie with mankind—”

 

All of a sudden, there was a knock at the door, making both of them jump. 

 

“Mrs. Kaspbrak?” Stan called. “Is Eddie there?”

 

He didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, if she let Stan come inside, this whole... _ thing _ ...would be over. It might be worse later, but at least it would be over for now. He might actually be able to catch his breath. On the other hand…

 

He didn’t know if he’d be able to handle being with Stan right now. Not with Leviticus running through his head and the curly-haired nurse still flashing through his mind. 

 

Eddie looked at her, frightened. For himself and for Stan; he had no clue what she’d do. She looked over at the door, than back at him, smiling like nothing in the past fifteen minutes had happened. “Well, go on,” she cooed. “Aren’t you going to let him in?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: stan has excoriation disorder (skin picking) and there’s a bit of description about the effect that has on him, so if that’s something that you’d rather not read, skip a bit farther down—it’s only towards the beginning :)
> 
> otherwise, no warnings, hope you enjoy!

Eddie looked between Sonia and the door a few times, trying to gauge if this was a test. It felt like one. The delicate cross chain around his neck felt like it was burning a hole against his chest—maybe that was a sign. One that meant he shouldn’t do it. But, test or not, Stan was here, and he wanted to see his friend. So he pushed himself off the floor with a small groan, earning him a glare, and went to let Stan inside. 

 

Stanley was smiling when Eddie first opened the door, but it quickly morphed into concern as he took in his appearance. “Hi, Stan,” Eddie greeted tiredly, ignoring the look on his friend’s face for now. He couldn’t talk about anything in front of her, obviously. The more pressing matter to Eddie was that it was hot out, but Stan was wearing a cardigan—light blue, looked soft—, and he knew what that meant. He’d have to fix him up when they got up to his room, assuming she’d let them. 

 

“Eddie, what—” Stan started, but Eddie tugged him into a loose hug, whispering, “Later.” He pulled away, stepping aside so Stan could walk in the foyer. 

 

Sonia had a tight smile on her face. “Stanley,” she said primly, in lieu of a real greeting. 

 

“Hi, Mrs. Kaspbrak,” Stan chirped, completely recognizing she didn’t want him there and refusing to show it. She stared him down, and he stared just as intensely back. 

 

“Aren’t you hot? Why don’t you take off that heavy sweater of yours?” she asked. It seemed innocent, but Eddie knew better. In a moment of weakness, he’d told her about it, and he regretted it ever since. Especially in moments like this, where he could see the grimace Stan was forcing back. 

 

“I’m alright, Mrs. Kaspbrak, thanks,” he said tightly, tugging the cardigan tighter around himself. 

 

Eddie’s eyes bounced between the pair, genuinely worried for Stan’s sanity if he stayed there. So he grabbed Stan’s hand, ignoring the sparks that flew up his arm at the contact, and tugged him upstairs. 

 

As soon as Eddie shut the door behind them, Stan burst out, “Eddie, what the hell? You look like shit.” He touched Eddie’s chin gently, tilting it so he could see both the reddening finger marks on the bottom of his cheeks and the scab from Bowers on his neck. Eddie’s lashes fluttered as he looked up, away from Stan. He could feel his face getting hot as his friend brushed a thumb gently over the scab. It felt like eons before Stan finally pulled away, at which point Eddie discovered he’d been holding his breath. 

 

“Can we fix you up first?” he pleaded once he regained his bearings. “I’ll tell you after, I promise.” 

 

Stan sighed but nodded. “Fine.” He slipped off the sweater, revealing the angry red marks up and down his arms. Eddie tried not to wince, but it was hard. They looked like they could easily get infected, they were all bumpy and some of them were bleeding—but that was what he was here to prevent, wasn’t it? 

 

“Alright, go sit,” Eddie instructed, trying to maintain a level head. “What was it today? Somethin’ bothering you?” he asked as he found his first-aid kit in the bottom drawer of his desk. 

 

Stan nodded. “I was stressed about...well, I was stressed about you,” he admitted, blushing lightly. Eddie blushed too, but felt guilty; he never wanted to be the reason for Stan’s picking. “And, I dunno, it was warm so I was wearing this and I didn’t even realize that I had been picking until I got home and some of it was bleeding.” He winced at his own words. “So then I threw that on and it was okay after that.”

 

Eddie sighed. “I’m not gonna tell you to stop because I know that doesn’t do anything.” He took out some antiseptic and q-tips, dabbing it onto a swab before pressing it lightly to the few open wounds on Stan’s arms.

 

He hissed at the sensation, shutting his eyes. “But?”

 

“But what?” Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow amusedly as he tended to the small sores. 

 

Stan shrugged, turning when he noticed that Eddie was done. The skin was worse on this arm and Eddie audibly hissed through his teeth at the sight of it. “I know, I know,” he sighed apologetically. “Anyway, it sounded like there was supposed to be a ‘but’ attached to the end of that.” 

 

Eddie shook his head. “Nope. Not gonna say anything.” They were silent as he finished cleaning the open patches, then went back and covered them in Neosporin and small circle bandages. He was so focused he didn’t see the fond look Stan gave him the whole while. And as bad as the skin looked, Eddie couldn’t help the shivers that ran up his hands at the contact. “Good as new,” Eddie declared with a smile, handing the cardigan back in case Stan wanted it. 

 

“Thanks, Eddie,” he said gratefully, taking the cardigan back but folding it neatly and putting it at the end of Eddie’s bed. He set his hands in his lap and faced him. “So now tell me. What happened?”

 

“You waste no time, do you?” Eddie rolled his eyes, but sighed. “It was Bowers,” he admitted. 

 

“That fucking bastard!” he muttered as he stood up angrily, making Eddie’s eyes widen.“What did he do to you, Eddie?” he asked, in a low tone Eddie knew meant danger. Meant that Stan was going to flip his shit. 

 

It almost made him scared to answer, but he did anyway. “The usual,” he started, shrugging. “Probably gonna have another scar on my neck, it’ll be light though.” Stan scoffed, but he ignored it. It wouldn’t look out of place; he had plenty of surgery scars from biopsied lymph nodes. Some of the scars hadn’t lasted, but others, from when they’d taken out more than one at a time, were still there. A few of them were more raised than others, having been irritated from subsequent surgeries. Even if Bowers’ knife was a little jagged, it wouldn’t look altogether strange etched across his neck.  

 

Now that he thought about it, Eddie was confused by why the nurse hadn’t asked. All of a sudden, he realized that he’d treated him in the past. He furrowed his brow, wondering why he didn’t remember. 

 

Eddie was suddenly taken out of his thought process by feeling Stan’s eyes observing him carefully, making him self-conscious as he elaborated. “They all cornered me after school. Called me the usual shit. Fairy, girlyboy—” He swallowed. “Fag,” he said, quieter, before clearing his throat and rushing through the rest of it. “Uh, they pushed me down, I had an anxiety attack, they kicked me a lot. At one point, I think Patrick was gonna—”

 

Stan stepped forward, like he was ready to protect Eddie despite the bullies being long gone. “Don’t tell me he touched you, Eddie, I swear to God—” His gray eyes had a storm inside them like Eddie had never seen, and he leaned back on his bed. 

 

“No, no, Stan, he tried to kiss me, that’s all!” he said quickly, attempting to placate him—except that only served to make him angrier. 

 

“He tried to kiss you?” Stan’s voice reached a dangerous volume and Eddie had to shush him, glancing over in terror to the door. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter but no less terrifying. “That son of a bitch, he’s not allowed to come anywhere near you, he doesn’t deserve—” He cut himself off suddenly, blush raising to his cheeks. 

 

Eddie looked at him curiously. “What do you mean, Stan?” he asked quietly. His friend’s eyes widened, like Eddie said something wrong. “What?” he asked again, a little louder. He didn’t understand what Stan meant. 

 

Stanley just shook his head. “Nothing, Eddie, it doesn’t matter. I just don’t ever want him getting near you again.”

 

Eddie smiled a little. He kind of liked this new, protective Stan. He always got angry whenever the Bowers Gang got to one of them, but not like this. He wasn’t sure what changed in the past few weeks. “Come back, Stanny,” he invited, patting the blanket next to him. 

 

Stan sighed, rubbing his face. “Okay, Eds.” He came and sat next to him again, so close their thighs were touching. 

 

Eddie moved away, just slightly, and crinkled up his nose at the name. “Eds? All that time around Richie must be rubbing off on you,” he teased, elbowing Stan gently. 

 

Stan’s cheeks seem to get a little pinker at the mention of their friend. “Yeah, must be,” Stan said, laughing a bit awkwardly, but quickly sobered. “Eddie…” he said softly, turning more to face him. “Bowers didn’t grab your face.” It wasn’t a question, but Eddie answered anyway. 

 

“No.” Sudden tears prickled in his eyes, and he looked down in shame. Stan placed a hand on his thigh and he tugged it away from his grasp. 

 

“Stan, don’t,” he warned weakly, face getting hot despite himself. “She—I—she thinks I’m gay, I can’t.” 

 

The look on Stan’s face was softer than he’d ever seen it. Eddie’s heart beat faster. “Are you?” Stan asked quietly. There was no judgement in his tone or in his eyes. Just realizing that sent the tears spilling over. 

 

Eddie shook his head. “No! Maybe? I don’t know!” he panicked, his throat starting to close up again. That was the closest he’d gotten to admitting it. He didn’t want to admit it. The cross necklace bounced against his chest as he stood up, a simple reminder. He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t allowed to be gay. 

 

But what if he was?

 

Stan didn’t move to get closer, just gave him a small smile. “Can I tell you something?”

 

Eddie looked at his friend with confusion. It was a sudden shift, but he welcomed the distraction. “‘Course, anything,” he replied, wiping the tears off his face. 

 

There was something akin to fear in Stan’s eyes—maybe sadness, too. Despite this, he held Eddie’s gaze as he spoke. 

 

“Eddie, I’m gay.” 

 

Eddie stepped back in shock, shaking his head. “No,” he whispered. “You can’t be. You’re so—”

 

“Normal?” Stan supplied with a small smile. “Religious?” He tugged out his own necklace, proudly displaying the Star of David as he rubbed his thumb over it. “‘Cause you know you’re allowed to be both, Eddie.” 

 

Eddie shook his head again. He didn’t want to believe it. “No, you’re not, you can’t—” He didn’t know if he was talking to Stan or himself. Stan just sat there, infuriatingly calm. He just kept looking at him with that soft smile, an almost pitying look. “How do you know?” Eddie whispered, still keeping his distance. 

 

“How do I know I’m gay?” Stan asked, doing his best not to look affected when Eddie winced and nodded. “Because, Eddie, I like boys. It makes me feel happy to be around them, a lot more than girls. Like, I love Bev, but when I hang out with her, it’s nothing like when I’m with—” He cut himself off abruptly, tips of his ears turning pink. “I get a flutter in my stomach when I see them, and I get goosebumps when I touch them ‘cause the contact is...a lot. I get really blushy, too.” He laughed softly, cheeks now appropriately blushing a light pink. 

 

Eddie couldn’t help but think he liked it when Stan blushed, and he could tell he was starting to blush himself. The goosebumps Stan was talking about...he felt that. He’d felt that just a few minutes ago. With Stan. And that was more terrifying than any run-in with Bowers. 

 

“Stan…” he whispered. His heart was beating faster than it ever had. “All that, the fluttering and the goosebumps and the blushing, I have that. Does that mean I’m gay?” Eddie’s voice was barely audible as he fidgeted with the cross. 

 

Stan just kept looking at him with a serene smile. “Do you want it to?” he asked, almost as softly. 

 

_ Did _ he want it to? His immediate answer was no. No, he didn’t want to be gay. He didn’t want Bowers to be right. He didn’t want Sonia to be right. He didn’t want to be sent to Hell. 

 

Still, the more he thought about it, the less scared he felt. He was still terrified, but not the blind panic he felt before. In a way, it felt like something had clicked. He didn’t feel quite  _ whole _ , not yet, but like something made a little more sense. He didn’t know if he could fully admit it, but he felt more at peace. 

 

Eddie finally breathed out and nodded. “I think I do.” 

 

Stan’s smile grew wider. “That’s awesome! I’m proud of you, Eddie. Really proud.” He stood up then, crossing the room until he was standing right in front of him. Eddie was still rubbing the cross nervously, and Stan placed a gentle hand over one of his. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. You know, God loves you for whoever you are. You shouldn’t have to hide it. You can be religious and gay, don’t let anyone tell you you can’t.” 

 

Eddie exhaled sharply at both Stan’s touch and his words. “Okay, Stan,” he said quietly, still rubbing the cross between his thumb and forefinger. His friend brushed some of Eddie’s hair back behind his ear, making him shiver. 

 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Stan assured as he toyed with that one strand of hair, small smile back on his face. He took a deep breath before continuing. “This might be a lot, but—” He cut himself off, suddenly nervous. 

 

“But what, Stanny?” Eddie asked. It came out breathier than he wanted and he cursed himself. The slow stroke of Stan’s hand behind his ear was quickly making him pliant. 

 

“But...when I said that—that Patrick didn’t deserve to—to kiss you?” Stan said, the end of the sentence turned up in a question. Eddie nodded slowly. “Well, I said that because—because I think there are other...people...who—”

 

“Who deserve to kiss me?” Eddie completed quietly. There was a long stretch of silence after as both of them stood there, neither of them wanting to break it. Eddie looked up at Stan until he couldn’t anymore; he was staring at him with that piercing gaze that Eddie always felt was looking straight into his soul. 

 

“Yeah,” Stan finally said. He looked like he was holding his breath. 

 

“Yeah,” Eddie repeated softly, not knowing what else to say. He was sure Stan could see his heart, pounding against his rib cage like it was about to break free and jump straight into his friend’s hands. Or hand, since one of them was still twirling, almost absent-mindedly, that same wavy strand behind Eddie’s ear. The hand slowly made its way down the side of his face, sending shivers down Eddie’s whole body. “Stan—” he whispered. “What are you doing?” 

 

“Tell me to stop,” Stan said hoarsely, his hand now trailing down Eddie’s jaw. Eddie opened his mouth to do just that, but then Stan moved even closer, and he found that he didn’t want to. 

 

Eddie caught a glimpse of the pair in his bedroom mirror and then couldn’t look away. Stan stood three inches above him, but it didn’t seem threatening—more protective, more comforting. His stance had a confidence to it that Eddie didn’t think he could ever muster. Indeed, he looked small, shoulders tensed even as the rest of him relaxed. 

 

Stan’s hand took up Eddie’s chin next, brushing gently against the red marks Sonia left there. His fingers were longer and thinner than hers, and much gentler. Eddie didn’t feel like he was being forced when Stan turned his chin back so he was looking at him again. “Tell me to stop,” he repeated, just as softly as the first time. 

 

“No,” Eddie whispered. The constant burning of the cross slowly faded to a dull ache as he reached up, threading his fingers through Stan’s curly hair. He was breathing hard, he could tell, and his chest felt tighter than he wanted it to. And still, he felt safe. Stan made him feel safe. He’d take care of him. 

 

Eddie led Stan down by the back of his head, closer, much closer. Stan let go of his chin and brought both hands to each pink cheek, cupping his face softly. As he stroked his face with his thumbs, resting his forehead against Eddie’s, he whispered, “Relax. It’s okay, Eddie.” And he did. 

 

His shoulders came down from around his ears and he exhaled all the tension out in one big breath. “Kiss me,” he said, so soft he was almost mouthing the words. And Stan did. 

 

It was like nothing Eddie had ever felt before. It was soft. Stan used Chapstick religiously—the thought flashed through his mind before it was gone, Eddie’s mind flooded with the new sensation. It tasted like mint. It was light and quick and sent sparks through his whole body. Despite all of this, he pulled away first, with a light laugh. “Stan…” he breathed. “Wow.” Stan laughed too, then, still holding Eddie’s face in his hands. That’s all he could say, though. All he could think was  _ wow.  _

 

That was, until Eddie became very aware of the cross hanging around his neck. What had he done? 

 

The blissful expression on his face quickly turned to terror.  _ What have you done? What have you done?What have you done? _ “Get out,” he said abruptly, chest heaving as he started to work himself up into an asthma attack. 

 

Stan didn’t argue, almost like he had expected it. He just looked at him sadly, dropping his hands and walking out. He shut the door behind him, leaving Eddie shaking quietly as he pulled his inhaler out from his nightstand drawer.

 

He took a long pull from it as he sat down, holding the air in his mouth as thoughts raced through his head. Most of them were of how badly he’d messed up. He couldn’t believe he let Stan do that, had  _ asked  _ him to. Faintly, he could hear the front door shut and then the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs, the rapid pace matching his heartbeat. 

 

She burst through the door before he could tell her not to. “Oh, darling, it’s okay, Mommy’s here,” she cooed, wrapping him up in her arms as he shook. 

 

“I’m sorry, Mama,” he wheezed, turning his face into her ratty housecoat. She stroked his hair, shushing him softly. 

 

“It’s okay, Eddie-bear, it’s all okay now.” 

 

They stayed like that for what seemed like ages, Eddie shaking in his mother’s arms as she shushed him, cooing softly in his ear. She didn’t ask what happened, and Eddie didn’t tell her. Finally, his breathing evened out, but she didn’t let go of him. It made the whole room suddenly seem suffocating. “Ma, will you let me go now?” he asked quietly, and for once, she listened. She stood up from the bed, giving him a wet kiss on the cheek as she did so. 

 

“I love you, Eddie. Mommy will always be here, you know that, right?” It was meant to be comforting, but Eddie couldn’t help but feel a little threatened. 

 

“‘Course, Ma,” he said obediently, nodding. She seemed satisfied and went back downstairs, leaving the door open. 

 

He sighed and picked himself up from the bed, still feeling shaky. Eddie closed the door and turned back, leaning against it. When he did, he caught a glimpse of light blue against his yellow comforter and almost sobbed. 

 

He went over and picked it up. Sure enough, it was Stan’s cardigan, soft and smelling like mint. Eddie sat back down on the bed, sniffling as he pressed his face into it. He felt dirty for even doing that. He had a sudden thought, but he wasn’t sure if it was aimed at Stan or God. 

 

_ Please forgive me. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> Leave kudos and comments if you like it so far! (Also reblog on Tumblr bc that’s the best way to get more exposure, thank you!)
> 
> I changed my Tumblr, it’s now @chaotickaspbrak, so give that a follow! xoxo
> 
> Drop an ask or a comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list!


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